They Said it Ended
by SoapDuck
Summary: Hidden. Sleep. Confession. Garden. Sadness. Quiet. Melt. Storm. Fight. Legend. Touch. Frozen. Candles. Dynamic. Treasure. Switch. Vague. Pieces. Shiver. Ripple. Disaster. Sea. Reconciliation. Blaze. Shower. Flash. Electric. Soulmate. My entry into Zutara Month 2014.
1. Hidden

**A/N: So this is the start of a 28 day long journey. Hopefully I'll keep updating (one day late unfortunately), but I'm making no promises. Alas Uni starts soon :'(**

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hidden

ˈhɪdn

adjective

1. kept out of sight; concealed.

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He knows it's wrong, these hidden kisses in the dark, yet he can't seem to stop, and neither can she. It's not even like they think it'll be their little secret forever, each time they rendezvous in the corridors under the cover of darkness it seems more desperate, more hurried. Their teeth clash and their hands never seem to stop moving over each other, desperate to touch, to confirm that they're really there, in that moment, _marvelling _at the person that stands before them.

He's certain Toph knows, keeping a secret from her is like trying to hide a platypus-bear behind a tea bush - impossible to work and stupid to try. He thinks that Suki also suspects, there's this look behind her eyes when his and hers meet, part aching pity and part angry frustration (he's stopped meeting her gaze now, he can't bear what it tells him).

In Agni's name, even his _advisors _know, the crusty old fools, what with all their pointed remarks, and their constant dismissal of Katara as a legitimate Southern Water Tribe Ambassador (he's been on the receiving end of her fury because of it on more than one occasion).

They're both spoken for. Her to Aang, and he knows if she leaves him the boy will lose his mind, and if she leaves Aang for him there go his hopes at peace with the Avatar and the other nations. He'll be lucky if he even sees him again.

And then there's Mai, the wonderful, beautiful, aristocratic, bitter Mai. The Fire Nation loves her, the Sages have told him time and time again that it's time to marry her, and yet the candle he might have held for her before his banishment is nothing compared to the raging fire within him for Katara. A blazing fury that makes him itch all over and _crave _her and she pushes him against a wall (what was he saying again?), her fingernails scraping down his bare chest (the shirt is lying long forgotten on the ground somewhere around them, tossed there in their eagerness)

It's so _wrong.. _Yet why does it feel so right?

He doesn't want to keep it hidden, but that means an end to it, and as he flips them over, pushing her against the wall and caging her in with his arms on either side of his head, pressing open-mouthed kisses against her throat, he can't bring himself to want it to stop.

"Zu - Zuko," she gasps.

He grins against the column of her throat, masculine pride swelling in him at her voice, and he suckles at the join that connects her shoulder to her neck. He nibbles at the skin there, uncaring of the purple bruise that spreads there, wanting, _needing _to mark her as his, even for only a moment.

"Zu - Zuko, there's something I need to tell you." He ignores her (he doesn't want this to end) dragging his teeth further down her neck, goose pimples breaking out on her flesh where he touches.

Her chest is heaving against him, as she struggles to remember how to breathe. Her normally clear cerulean eyes are glazed over, her lips are red and swollen from the bruising force of his kisses, and her hair has been freed from its usual demure braid to flow freely down her back in a mess of tangles (the work of his fingers, but he can't quite remember when he did it) and he thinks she has never looked more beautiful than in that moment.

"I love you."

The words are out of his mouth before he even thinks them, murmuring them against her skin, and everything freezes. He forgets how to breathe as he realises what he has said and he feels her stiffen above him.

He wants to take them back, shove them back in his mouth and pretend they didn't happen, but he's said them now and he can't unsay them no matter how hard he tries (he could punch himself).

She pushes him away and he swears he can hear his heart breaking into little pieces, the fragments ringing like glass as it falls to the ground. Her eyes are wide and swimming with a million emotions and he wants to scream at her to _say something. _

Please.

Her hands are still against his chest and he can feel her fists curling in the fabric as if she means to pull him tighter towards her even as she holds him away. One of her hands releases his shirt, and crawls (torturously slowly) up to her throat till her fingers rest against the cool stone that adorns it.

A shuddering gasp escapes from her and a single tear trails down her cheek.

She says his name, "_Zuko,_" tasting it and holding it in her mouth as if it holds all of the secrets to the world before she finally releases it into the world and her voice sounds so broken he could die (and he wants to).

He knew this was forbidden, that's why they kept it hidden, isn't it? He knew it was never going to last, but the way she is looking at him, so utterly _defeated, _makes him wish he had never kissed her at all.

Her fingers clench around her mother's necklace and her face tightens as if she is fighting with herself.

"Zuko, that's what I wanted to talk to you about." She pauses for a moment and she looks at him with such burning _intensity _he almost forgets she's a water bender and he knows that whatever she says next will ruin them forever, and their stupid, naive little dream of hidden, forbidden kisses in the dark.

"Zuko," she is truly crying now and she sounds so guilty and _sad _he hates the world.

"Aang, he…" she stops again, her voice catching around the word and he knows what she's going to say. And he hates that he knows.

"Aang proposed. And I said yes." She enunciates each word clearly and precisely, as if pronouncing them properly will stop it hurting so much.

He steps away from her., turning his body until his back is towards her. He doesn't think he can face her at the moment, not now (maybe not ever).

She sighs behind him, and it sounds like giving in.

She rests a hand against his back, and her voice ghosts over him - through him.

"I love you, too."

He whirls, but she is already gone, and he is all alone in the darkness that hides so many secrets.

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**A/N: And that's a wrap! At least, for hidden. On to sleep (pun intended). **

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	2. Sleep

**A/N: This is quite the depressing one, so be warned. Prompt fill 2 of Zutara Month 2014. **

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sleep

sliːp

noun

1. a condition of body and mind which typically recurs for several hours every night, in which the nervous system is inactive, the eyes closed, the postural muscles relaxed, and consciousness practically suspended.

2. a gummy secretion found in the corners of the eyes after sleep.

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"She looks like she's sleeping, doesn't she?"

Katara froze, her body half in the room and half out. Slowly, she turned back towards the bed in the middle of the room, back towards the beautiful woman lying peacefully on it, oblivious to the Fire Lord who was crumbling to pieces next to her.

She smiled bitterly, shards of glass twisting her heart and mouth.

"Yes. Yes, she does."

Her throat was tight, and her eyes _burned _as she stared at the man in front of her, at the broken gasps that shuddered through him as he tried to contain the tees that rolled down his cheeks anyway. He was still holding on to her hand as tightly as he had been during the birth, his fingers desperately grabbing at hers, as if he hoped that if he grasped it hard enough she might press back.

_Her _heart was broken, but his was shattered.

She couldn't take it anymore, she stepped forwards, hesitated and then almost ran to him, collapsing at his side and throwing her arms around him, fists balling in the fabric of his shirt as she repeated _I'm sorry, I'm so sorry_, _Zuko, _into his chest, but he stiffened against her, and turned away, extricating himself from her embrace.

"Don't," he snapped.

She hesitated, torturous indecision carving itself into her features.

"Don't treat me like the others are." He laughed harshly.

"I don't think I could handle it if _you _treated me like the others do." He turned his head back to the beautiful woman on the bed.

A hopeless smile flitted across his face, more a grimace than anything else.

"She looks like a spirit, doesn't she?"

With the covers pulled up over the bloodstained sheets he hadn't let the maids change, her hair fanned out on the pillow beneath her head and her eyes closed to the pain on Zuko's face, she looked more at peace than she ever had in life.

Katara looked away.

"She looks beautiful." But all she can see is the way she _bled _around the glowing water and her frantic, gasping breaths as she pleaded for _Zuko. _

Katara's fingers stretched out to the perfect body in front of her, before they dropped uselessly onto the bed beside her.

"I thought…" She gulped around the lump in her throat before continuing.

"Suki has the baby. I thought you should know." He started, turning his face to look at her so fast he must have given himself whiplash, before his face crumpled in on itself and he _gave in _in front of her, his shoulders slumping, his body wracked with sobs.

"Oh, Agni. Oh, Agni, Katara. I can't do this. I can't do it. She's _gone." _His head twisted back towards her and there was such utter _despair _written all over it she would have gladly given her life if it just meant her would stop _hurting. _

"I wasn't even here! I wasn't even here, and she's _dead!_"

Katara had never felt more useless in her life.

"Agni, Katara, what am I supposed to do now? What _can _I do now?"

She was in love with this man and all she could do was stand there in utter helplessness as he _broke _in front of her.

And suddenly she was crying, for the man in front of her, for the woman she called a friend who lay dead in her childbed, one that _she _had been the healer for, for everything, because weren't they supposed to have _won? _Wasn't everything supposed to be perfect now?

Weren't they all supposed to be having their happily ever after?

"There's _nothing _you can do, Zuko! Absolutely nothing! She's dead, and it's my fault! It's my _fucking _fault, Zuko! I killed her! She was my friend and I killed her!"

She finished and her chest was heaving, and the tears were still streaming down her face but he just stared at her and she couldn't face him anymore.

She turned away from him, from the sorrow in his golden eyes, and _ran. _

Away from that room, away from the tortured screams she could still hear ringing in her ears, and away from his broken sobs begging for her, for _Mai _to return to him.

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**A/N: Well, that was depressing, but I think I'm happy with the concept. I know I've seen a few fills on tumblr which look at sleep-like death, but I don't think I've seen any for another character, at least not in this context. I was also interested in doing one-sided Zutara for Katara, because that seems pretty rare in the fanfiction world. **

**Anway, hope you enjoyed. **

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	3. Confession

**A/N: So, day 3 is finished, and I seriously do not think I can write anything that comes out happy.**

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confession

kənˈfɛʃ(ə)n/

_noun_

1. a formal statement admitting that one is guilty of a crime.

2. a statement setting out essential religious doctrine.

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_I have a confession (and I want to scream it at you). _

She whispers it against his skin, under the cover of darkness, because it feels like silk on her and she's in the business of keeping secrets made in silk.

_Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if everything had turned out differently (if I hadn't ended up with you). _

She presses a kiss to his temple, the steady rhythm of his breathing washing over her. There is a sliver of silver moonlight that has fallen between the cracks in the curtains that surround their bed and onto him, and she follows its path down his body, pressing soft kisses all the way.

_Sometimes I want to cry (because it shouldn't have turned out this way)._

She presses another kiss to his shoulder.

_Weren't we supposed to be happy? (Wasn't this supposed to be our happily ever after?)_

She pauses, and she realises that some point, she has moved so that she is straddling him, and she is staring down at his face - so peaceful in sleep - and on impulse she reaches out, tracing his features with her fingertips.

Slowly, she drags her fingers down his face, hands committing the contours of his face to memory.

_When you kiss me I kiss you back (because I imagine you are him). _

She leans down and kisses his forehead, his eyelids, the tip of his nose.

She sighs, and it ghosts over his lips and they part on instinct, and she knows what she should do but she hesitates, her face inches above his.

_You said I love you and I said I love you too (but I was looking at him). _

She leans back, and lets the moonlight wash over her.

_I don't want it to be like this (I don't). _

A single tear rolls down her cheek to splatter on his bare chest.

_I want to love you (but I already love him). _

She rolls off him to lie on her back, staring at the canopy of their bed. She stuffs a fist into her mouth as she tries to stifle the sound of her sobs.

_I have a confession (and I cry myself to sleep because of it)._

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**_A/N: _And that's confession done. **

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	4. Garden

**A/N: So, this is garden. More sadness. **

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garden

ˈgɑːd(ə)n

_noun_

1. piece of ground adjoining a house, used for growing flowers, fruit, or vegetables

2. a large public hall.

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They bury her in the garden.

Beneath the cherry tree.

Next to the pool.

Where she married him.

He spends days sitting next to it - the pool, the tree, the little _rock _that is all that remains of her - and staring at the water, that she once said was like liquid starlight (he had laughed at her for that, then he had kissed her until both of them saw stars).

He doesn't speak, doesn't sleep, doesn't eat. He just sits there and stares, unblinking at the little pond, at the ripples the little turtleducks make in the surface of the water, at its shallow clarity, and all he can see is the way it turned _red _as her life-force dripped out of her.

She would have hated him for this, would have punched him, _screamed _at him until he came back to her, until he returned from his faraway land, but she's not there, she's in the ground beside him and _he _wants to scream because how is it fair?

The Fire Nation lives red, but the Water Tribes bleed it.

It's funny, really.

How cruel the world can be in its irony.

Funny.

Then why is he crying?

He promised to _protect _her (she had laughed at him when he did it, she had said _she _didn't need protection) and she had screamed his name as she pushed him away, putting her body between his and the knife.

He remembers something she once told him, that she owed him her life.

For the lightning.

Because he sacrificed himself for her.

Because he was selfless.

He remembers telling her he was being selfish. Not selfless (she was the selfless one).

He couldn't live without her, so he did what he did to keep her alive. Because he couldn't live without her.

He can't live without her. He can't.

She told him he would never have to.

Isn't life cruel.

Isn't life funny.

They bury her in the garden.

Beneath the cherry tree.

Next to the pool.

Where she died for him.

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**A/N: So, that's garden done. And yay! Another sad one! Haha, next prompt is sadness, so maybe to change it up I'll write something happy. Wouldn't that be nice. **

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	5. Sadness

**A/N: Hey, hey! Prompt no. 5: sadness. I really did try to write something happy but it came out stupid. Sorry guys :/**

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sadness

ˈsadnəs

_noun_

1. the condition or quality of being sad.

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She knows a lot about happiness.

Happiness tastes like kissing her son in the sunshine and cake with Suki as they giggle about stupid things. It sounds like her son calling her 'Mom' and the sound of a gurgling stream. It smells like the sky when she's flying on Appa's back and stewed sea prunes. It looks like the smile that spread across her face as she beheld her son for the first time and bending under the moonlight. It feels like the day they won the war and the day Zuko kissed her for the first time.

She knows a lot about sadness, too.

Sadness tastes like stolen kisses in the rain, like tea in Iroh's teashop as she watches what she can't have. It sounds like her son calling Aang 'Dad' and the creak of the bed as she left Zuko that the morning. It smells like the flowers Aang planted in the garden on their wedding anniversary and the spices her brother loves so much. It looks like her son's eyes as they stare back at her, all fiercely golden, and the ring around Zuko's finger pledging him to another. It feels like her heart when she told Aang that she was pregnant and the memory of Zuko's lips against hers.

She knows fear.

And joy.

Despair.

Anger.

Shame.

Pity.

Envy.

Pride.

Hope.

Pain.

Hate.

Love.

She knows a lot about happiness.

But she knows more about sadness.

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**A/N: Thanks for reading guys, I know this one wasn't a very spectacular effort. Oh, and I would just like to say a massive thank you to the following people" JunetheZutarian, Quirkista, Bloody-red-scar, kawaii-kiwis and Harky21. You guys make my day :)**

**Reviews make the world go round. **


	6. Quiet

**A/N: yay! Fluff! I'm gonna be honest with you guys, I kind of gave up on this one. Fluff and I are not friends. **

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quiet

ˈkwʌɪət

adjective

1. making little or no noise.

2. carried out discreetly, secretly, or with moderation.

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He proposed in the quiet of the morning.

He had been planning it for months, so desperate to get it _right _he had even enlisted her _brother _to help him - not that he had been much use anyway, he had just shrugged and groaned at him, "It's _Katara_," before wandering away to search for meat (but not before threatening to kill him if ever did anything to hurt her) - and he had painstakingly perfected every single little detail of his proposal.

Of course that all went to hell.

He was supposed to ask her to marry him that night. Not this morning. He was supposed to take her out to dinner - in some fancy restaurant his uncle had recommended - and then take a stroll through the Botanic Gardens and look at the stars, before turning to her, reciting a well-practised speech declaring the depth of his feelings for her.

So he tossed it out the window.

He hadn't meant to - he hadn't set out to discard months of careful planning - it just didn't sit comfortably on his skin. It didn't feel like them, and she just looked so _beautiful _in the sunlight, so peaceful in the early quiet of the morning, with her chocolate-coloured skin still marked with the memory of last night, it just slipped out.

He had stolen a kiss from her lips.

And then one kiss turned into two.

And then as she began to stir against him, pressing back, two kisses turned into two dozen.

And before he could even _think _the words just tumbled out in a rush, as if he had exhaled them instead of speaking.

_Will you marry me? _

Such simple words. Yet, when he spoke them, it seemed as if the world froze, stunned that he would have the _audacity _to think that the amazing woman who lay before him, this beautiful, powerful, compassionate woman could possibly want to marry _him - _a scarred mess of a man.

Her eyes snapped open, astonishment seemingly freezing her to the bed, as she searched his golden gaze.

The sun had just risen, rosy tendrils of light creeping lazily into their bedroom, bathing them in golden warmth, but that didn't compare to the warmth that spread through from his chest down to his toes when she smiled at him, blue eyes dancing, leant in and whispered a quiet _yes _in his ear.

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**A/N: So I tried to write happy things. Ha. Happy. Happy and I do not work well together. **

**Massive thank you to the following people: storyoftheunknownfangirl, lawliness, Harky21, and JunetheZutarian. You guys made my day :) **

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	7. Melt

**A/N: So this is melt. And guess what, guys? It's not sad! *shock horror***

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melt

mɛlt

verb

1. make or become liquefied by heating.

2. make or become more tender or loving.

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She knows what it is it to melt.

When she was little, she watched as Gran Gran took freshly fallen snow from outside - heating it in a soot blackened pot over their smoky little fire - and turned it into water. She had thought it was magic, these white dusty particles that disappeared, became this wondrous element that flowed between her fingers like silk.

Later, when she was older and knew that _she _could control the water - make it move through the air, through the sky - she learned what it was to melt the ice herself, without the help of the hated red element. She had been pulling at it, fighting with it as she tried to _force _it to move _with_ her. But she had lost control of the element - _her _element - and she froze her brother to the ground.

It took them hours to unfreeze him - by that time his lips had turned blue and he cursed the very existence of '_magic_'. First she tried simply swinging her arms, fingers curling into claws as she desperately tried to haul the _ice _towards her, but it didn't follow her, didn't move with her. It wasn't until she had crumpled to the ground, tears streaming down her face as Sokka yelled at her _to get him out of there_, and her sobbed breaths ghosted over the ice did she realise she could melt it (in the following weeks, she froze Sokka seventeen times as she tried to control her newfound power of freezing and melting).

In the years that follow, she comes to believe that it is perhaps one of her most valuable skills. Healing will become her most prized skill, but it was her ice that stopped Azula, and her ability to _melt _it that saved them both.

She knows how to melt with her hands, to take the ice and coax it, encourage it to flow once again.

But Zuko taught her another way of melting.

He taught her how to melt her frozen heart - the part she had sealed in ice, protecting herself from _hurting _again, after her mother. He had taken her, used his knowledge and power to show her where to go, how to find the _monster _that had taken her mother from her. The others had told her that she _shouldn't, _that she _couldn't_, but he had shown her that it was her decision to make. It was her choice to seek revenge, and the others had tried to stop her, but he had shown her that she was her own person.

_She deserved closure. _She deserved the right to her own peace of mind.

And he shown her that that was the way to let people back in - to let _him _back in. The way to unseal the deepest part of her heart.

He melted her.

_In more ways than one, _she thought as his mouth did devilish things to her neck, tongue and teeth, bitting, sucking, nipping, laving at the soft skin that joined her shoulder to the column of her throat. And she _moaned _as his hand came up to caress her side, her legs liquefying, no longer able to support her - but wait, no. She was mad at him, he shouldn't be doing this - and moaned even louder as he pressed hot, open mouthed kisses against her pulse point.

He grinned against her skin, and pushed her up against the back of the door of his bedroom, hiking her legs up around his waist. His hands travelled up her sides, lingering against the most sensitive parts of her body, before his hands hesitated at the ties that held her robe together.

"So, what do you say, Fire Lady?" he whispered into her ear, his voice dark and husky.

"Are you still mad at me?"

She could melt the ice, but fire could melt _her. _

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**A/N: Massive thank you again to: storyoftheunknownfangirl and Harky21. You guys make my day :)**

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	8. Storm

**A/N: So this is my fill for storm. And happy? What was that I hear? Ha! Please. For anyone that's curious this is a sort of? continuation of my fill for prompt 4: garden. **

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storm

stɔːm

noun

1. a violent disturbance of the atmosphere with strong winds and usually rain, thunder, lightning, or snow.

2. a tumultuous reaction; an uproar or controversy.

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Storms - proper storms - frenzied, terror-inducing maelstroms of the Spirits' fury are rare in the Fire Nation.

It rains, yes. Light sprinkles of water that float down with the golden rays of sunshine that abound in the hottest of the four nations, but true _storms, _storms that tear the sky asunder, renting it apart with cracks of bone-jarring lightning and flooding the streets with torrents of black water.

He doesn't like storms. They remind him too much of _her_.

Mai moans at his side, the booming thunder rolling across the sky disturbing her sleep, and her eyes scrunch together tighter, displeasure cutting its way into her face. He's always found it funny how the only time she allows her mask to fall away completely is in the blissful company of velvety sleep.

Katara could never hide anything from anybody. Her face, her eyes - _Agni, her eyes - _betrayed everything to anyone looking.

Lightning splits the sky out the window, brilliant white power arcs towards the earth and strikes it, the crack it makes snapping through him and momentarily deafening him. At his side, Mai starts, eyes snapping open, sliding over him before collapsing back into her sleep.

He rips the sheets away from his body, sudden heat and a desperate need to _move _infecting him. He stumbles to the window, a wave of dizziness swamping his mind and dulling his thoughts, and he falls upon it, hands grabbing at the sill because it is the only thing that keeps him standing.

Rain falls in sheets outside, and the grass that surrounded his little courtyard was been drowned in the liquid. The cherry tree's leaves wilt beneath the weight of the water collected on its leaves and he has to fight with himself not to run outside and burn the water away from the little rock that hides beneath it.

The little pond that the tree shelters is overflowing, and is bleeding into the grass that surrounds it, the edges of the pool no longer distinct beneath the silvery sheen of the water.

Above him, the palace, the world, the sky is at war with itself. The storm, so similar to the storm that could rage in her blue, blue, blue eyes, seeks to _destroy _the world beneath it, the furious weather unleashing itself on the unsuspecting city.

Lightning splits the sky again, a sudden flash of brilliance against the deathly black of the angrily brewing clouds, and suddenly he sees Azula's eyes, her eyes flashing _behind _him and her fingers jabbing out, the lightning flying from her fingers, sparking and sizzling towards _her _and a roll of thunder almost knocks him off his feet

His fists clench and his nails dig into his palms and he can feel her lips pressing kisses against them and he can _swears _the sound of glass shattering is his heart - the little misshapen lump of _brokeness_ that remains.

He tries, he tries so hard, but he spends hours by that little rock everyday while Mai averts her eyes and pretends she doesn't see.

Wetness drips onto the sill and it's not the rain and he tries to focus on the sound of Mai's breathing instead of the sound of rain drops on the roof because it reminds him of the sound she made when she walked.

He takes a deep, shuddering breath and immediately regrets it. The deep, clean scent of rain is thick on the air and it's _her _and he loses it again, slumping to the floor in front of the window and catching his face between his knees.

He needs to get up, this isn't fair to Mai. He should go back to bed, back to his wife, who can never hate him no matter how much she should. He shouldn't fall to pieces every time the rain falls and he shouldn't have that necklace in the box on his desk but he can't bring himself to part with it, because it's the only thing he has left of her that's truly _her_.

He should have given the damned stone to her brother when he told him to keep it. He should have gotten rid of it. He should be rid of _everything _because even when it should just be him and his wife he still pictures a brown neck with that necklace on it.

He makes himself sick.

His world is stained red and blue, and the rain is just driving the ink deeper and deeper.

He doesn't like storms.

They remind him too much of her.

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**A/N: Thanks for reading! Special thanks goes to storyoftheunkownfangirl, Harky 21 and fuzzylovescats for your lovely reviews :) Also to anyone who has favourited or followed - you guys make my day!**

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	9. Fight

**A/N: Sorry it took so long, I had a serious case of writer's block with this prompt. **

**Anyway, this is what I came up with. **

**Modern AU: The Painted Lady and the Blue Spirit are modern day Robin Hoods in the Fire Nation Capital City. **

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fight

fʌɪt

verb

1. take part in a violent struggle involving the exchange of physical blows or the use of weapons.

2. struggle to overcome, eliminate, or prevent.

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He leapt out at her from the depths of a dark alley, catching her by surprise and it was in that moment in which she was stunned that he gained the advantage.

He brutally seized her around her upper arm, hauling her backwards into the shadows of the side alley, and shoving her against the rough brick wall, the shock of the contact jarring her back. Her face was hidden beneath the mesh veil and bright red paint of the Painted Lady, but his was concealed beneath the rough black wool of his baclava.

His eyes - the only thing not hidden by the formless black mask - were narrowed at her in furious hatred, his eyes boring holes into her while his fingers dug cruelly into the soft flesh of her arm. It was then that she noticed his left hand.

It was raised to be at the same level as her head, and tightly clenched between his sausage meat fingers was a gleaming black handgun, its barrel pointing directly between her eyes.

She frowned behind the silvery sheen of the veil - nobody should have known she was here, that she was coming this way, let alone have enough warning to lie in wait for the moment she sprinted past clutching the bag of cash in her gloved hands - and yet here she was, being held at gunpoint by some guy seriously packing judging by the bulges in his - her frown deepened - immaculate business suit.

The frown melted off her face as she noticed the beginnings of a curling tattoo that crept down from behind his neck to beneath the collar of his suit.

Of course. How could she be so stupid.

Ozai had been _particularly _threatening lately.

They paused for a moment, both sizing each other up and then he glanced down at her fist still tightly clinging to the little bag stuffed full of hundred dollar bills and she seized _her _chance, the fist of her free hand coming out of nowhere, sailing into the side of his face with the force of a sledgehammer, stunning him and sending him reeling backwards. She looked at him lying senselessly on the ground for a moment, and a thought sprang into her mind, but she dismissed it in the same instant - she couldn't reveal that, not yet, anyway.

She didn't wait to find out how long it took him to recover his senses, she was already ducking out of his hold and racing down the shadowy alleyway. away from She dodged around a pile of wooden crates, kicking them out behind her in the hopes they slow down her assailant.

She hiked the bag up around her shoulders as she leapt over another pile of crates, body flying through the air as she propelled herself forward, cursing as she heard the sound of crashing and a deep masculine voice swearing.

A sharp _crack _sang through the musty air, and instinctively she leaned her head to the side as a bullet sizzled past her ear. She didn't pause to look behind her for fear of slowing down, instead digging her head into her shoulders and pushing herself to run faster, _be quicker_. If she could just get to the end of the alleyway, she could lose him in the labyrinth of side streets and dead ends that made up the Fire Nation capital.

She grinned beneath her veil. She could do this.

She turned another corner, leaning into the sudden turn in the hopes of losing him in the continuing street, before she scrambled backwards, as a wall three storeys high reared up out of the thick darkness, blocking her path, marking the alleyway as one of the many dead end streets the city was famed for. The same dead ends she had intended to lose her pursuer in.

She turned back around, there was no escaping him now, and she could hear from the crashing footsteps he couldn't be far behind her.

A colourful word that her brother would have fainted upon learning that she knew it floated through her mind, and wormed its way into her mouth until she could taste it on her lips, but she swallowed it, creeping backwards into the shadows that cloaked the alleyway. There was still the hope that he hadn't seen her spin around the corner through the dark shadows. She slunk even further back, until she could feel the jagged edges of the bricks pressing against the tender flesh of her back.

Her eyes narrowed and she stripped her hands of the gloves, stuffing them into a pocket of the backpack. She patted her side, searching for the canteen she kept at her side and an even more colourful word bloomed in her mind as she realised it wasn't there. She hoped she hadn't dropped it back in the Palace because she was nothing less than dead if she had. She stiffened as the crashing footfalls of the Royal thug drew closer, pausing at the entrance of the alleyway.

She grimaced. She didn't have time to worry about the canteen, she needed water - _fast. _Her fingers curled into claws as her foot slid backwards into the familiar bending stance, hands dragging through the air, calling the moisture from the moist air towards her.

A heavy footstep echoed down the short alley, and she held her breath. Another footstep and she tensed, arms slowly moving to stretch out in front of her, the water following her actions. She squinted her eyes at the entrance of the alley, but the shadows were like a solid wall of black, it was too dense, too thick, too effective at blocking the sunshine that she knew was trying to crawl down from the sky into the depths of the alley below.

A crash echoed down the alleyway, a yowling hiss following immediately afterwards and she dimly wondered if the catdog was going to be her saviour.

Her thoughts were beginning to cloud - she desperately needed to breathe but she couldn't, she didn't know if he was still there, she hadn't heard him move away, but he could have while she was distracted by the furious catdog.

Her vision began to stain black, the shadows creeping forwards to hide behind her eyes and clog her mind, swamping her brain with foul, musty air, and she has to breathe or she will _die. _

She hesitated for a second longer, eyes darting around in her head as she desperately tried to see through the impenetrable wall of shadows, to discern any shapes in the inky darkness, before she took a mouthful of the sour air that left the trace of metal on her tongue and it was the sweetest thing she'd ever tasted - the precious air rushing to her head and making her dizzy on her feet - and it was in that moment she realised that she had just made the worst mistake of her life.

She felt rather than saw the man whirl around at the entrance of the alleyway, his finger squeezing the trigger, sending bullets tearing her away, and in that second she froze the air in front of her. She reacted based more on instinct than any real skill, her arms coming up to cover her face in an ancient act of self-preservation, yanking the water she had gathered in front of her and freezing it in the same moment, the bullet caught in its tracks inches from her face.

But she didn't stop there, she rolled forwards, the ice melting as she moved, and darting forwards, dodging the bullets he shoots at her, and she's so close to him she can smell the cigar he must have smoked that morning and doesn't even think, just forces her arms forwards, twisting them around each other and the water rushes to obey her command, blasting forwards towards him, smashing him against the wall of the alley opposite.

He slumped to the ground, head lolling to the side, and a part she had hidden deep inside of her smiled viscously, savage pleasure coursing through her at having hurt him _-_ _them - _for hurting her. She frowned. She shouldn't enjoy this.

She paused a moment longer, eyes drifting over the man's unconscious body, over his covered face, before she curled her hand into a fist and sprinted away down the alleyway, dodging down a side path before bursting out into sweaty air and the flaming sunlight of the Fire Nation and directly into a circle of men, dressed in identical suits - bar the balaclava - to the man she had just knocked unconscious, and all looking very, _very_ surprised to see her walking and breathing.

_Fuck. _

A bullet flew at her from the side and she folded in half backwards, hands already curling through the air to call the moisture that clung to it like a disease. A second bullet came from the front and she rolled a second too late but twin dao blades had already blocked its path, separating it into insignificant fragments.

She didn't even try to stop the smile that spread over her face as she sprang to her feet, twisting herself to stand back to back with the intruder, both itching for a fight.

The suits hesitated, sudden insecurity and doubt flashing across their faces as they recognised the sudden latecomer as the Blue Spirit, and she surged.

Water erupted in the air and she had one of the suits frozen to the ground before anyone could move. And then the world exploded into action.

She lost herself in the adrenaline-fuelled twists and turns of a fight. It was like dancing on the edge of a knife, take one step too far on either side and imminent death was guaranteed.

She ducked under a fist the flew at her face, fingers dragging through the water-saturated air, to freeze his torso to the wall opposite, and there was a _bang _near her ear from a gun, but she was already twisting away, and the Blue Spirit flipped her over his head to block the sudden burst of fire from the hands of one of the suits with her water while the Blue Spirit sliced a gun - still held in the hand of the suit who had shot it - into useless parts.

She turned right, he turned left, she stepped forwards, he stepped backwards. They fought in perfect tandem with each other. They were yin and yang, Tui and La, sun and moon.

They were perfect with each other - wait, what? Confusion at her last thought made her stumble and it was only his hand reaching back and yanking her out of the way of an oncoming bullet that saved her. She berated herself as she bent a water whip at another suit, _get it together, Katara. Get it together!_

She spun over his outstretched leg, catching a loose bullet in a wall of water as he twisted behind her to attack one of the suits, and before she knew it, they were surrounded by a pile of unconscious men, frozen in place by her ice and she didn't even want to stop the smile that spread over her face as she surveyed their victory.

He seized her by the shoulder and spun her roughly around to face him. His face was hidden by the crude blue mask of vicious tusks and bulging plate-work, but she had the distinct feeling that he was furiously glaring at her from behind the eye-slits - well he would have to live with his anger, because they were both alive and they still had the money for the slums.

"I thought you said you couldn't bend," he hissed. He had a nice voice - better than nice, it was husky and reminded her of woodsmoke and honey. Sometimes in her most private movements she wondered what it would taste like - his words in her mouth - but right now she was feeling far too defensive about his tone to care about the _quality _of his voice.

"I didn't want to reveal everything to you - I _still _don't know who you are, because you won't take off the _fucking _mask_,_" she hissed back, annoyance and anger eating at her words until they tasted sour on her tongue.

She glanced down at the limp bodies that surrounded them, and exhaled, her warm breath melting the ice that held them to the ground, releasing it flow down the street not a drain.

She frowned.

There was still too much evidence that indicated a water bender was the culprit, but she didn't have the time to erase all of it before authorities appeared.

She turned her attention back to him, eyes burning with a fury to rival a firebender's, to rival _him_. She had every right to be angry - how dare he act like she didn't! He had changed the plan and she had run right into gun-wielding Fire Nation thugs!

Sudden uneasiness pricked at the back of her neck.

"You changed the escape route," she said slowly, drawing the words out, as if holding them in her mouth for longer would make them less true.

"Why _did _you change the escape route?"

She registered the stiffness of his body as being wariness - not anger - and the uneasiness intensified, her stomach tying knots around itself as she tried to come up with an explanation, _any _explanation but the one that had presented itself.

"Katara, I was trying to save you! They weren't supposed to be there!"

And her stomach dropped off the face of the the earth.

Her fists clenched and she struggled to fight against the rising panic swelling within her.

"How…. How do you know my name?"

She could feel his eyes widen behind the mask as he realised his mistake and the sunlight glinted of the golden irises - _fuck, _golden -

"Zuko?"

But he was already gone, a sliver of black that melted away into nothingness.

_Well, shit. _

That was unexpected.

* * *

**A/N: Not gonna lie, I kind of gave up on this one. Don't even ask what just happened. Anyways, as always, massive thank you to anyone who has followed or favourited, and a HUMONGOUS thank you to fuzzylovescats, storyoftheunknownfangirl and Harky21 - you guys make my day. **

**Reviews make the world go round. **


	10. Legend

**So this is the fill for legend - sorry, it's so late :/**

* * *

legend

ˈlɛdʒ(ə)nd

noun

1. a traditional story sometimes popularly regarded as historical but not authenticated.

2. an extremely famous or notorious person, especially in a particular field.

* * *

_They met on top of the mountain that divided their two villages. _

He met her in the middle of her village of ice, surrounded by the frozen wasteland of the South Pole. He had dismissed her at first - she was nothing more than a scrawny Water Tribe peasant, but then he kept meeting her. He fought her, felt her wager against his skin and suddenly she didn't seem so _insignificant _anymore.

_The villages were enemies so they could not be together, but their love was strong and they found a way. _

She was water and he was fire. She flowed and he _burned. _They shouldn't, they couldn't_ - _but they did.

He tried to get her out of his head, honestly, he did. He would argue with himself for hours - slamming his fists into the metal hull of his ship, into the rough wooden panelling of a hut or the stone walls of the Eastern Air Temple until they were swollen and bleeding and he longed for her still.

Eventually he grew tired of it, and he kissed her - hard, pushing her up against the wall and demanding that she take notice, that she _see _how much he loved her, how much he needed her and then she surprised him by pushing back, kissing him just as roughly, demanding that _he _notice _her. _

_The two lovers learnt earth bending from the badger moles - they became the first earth benders. _

He knew they had both struggled with their bending. But he had felt the full force of her raw potential and he had admired it, and he had known that somewhere deep down (buried beneath the hatred she protected herself in) she had admired him too.

He knew that she had struggled, like he had. They had struggled and fought to master their bending, and he knew that Aang would never understand how _hard _she had worked to master it.

He knew that when she was mad she would lose herself in her bending, become one with the water, the same way he did with his fire.

_They built elaborate tunnels so they could meet secretly. Anyone who tried to follow them would be lost forever in the labyrinth. _

They would meet in secret. Hidden meetings in the dark, stolen kisses behind closed doors. They could not let anyone find out, and he hated himself for it. He couldn't understand why she insisted that they couldn't, _they shouldn't, _and would then lose herself in his heat, in the warmth of his caresses.

_But one day the man didn't come. _

He was late getting there. He had been caught up in a diplomatic meeting with the Water Tribes - with her father. He grimaced to imagine what her father would do to him if he found out what he was doing to his daughter behind everyone's backs.

He was so caught up in his own thoughts he didn't pay attention to his surroundings. He had shed his guard entail a long time ago - they couldn't risk anyone finding out - and it was that mistake that cost him his life.

It was her name that tore from his lips as he fell.

_He died in the war between their two villages. _

She waited for him for hours at their secret place, until she left in a defeated mess of tears.

Aang found her later, and threw himself upon her, his arms clutching her to him, whispering sweet words of comfort even as his own tears dripped down into her hair.

_Devastated, the woman unleashed a terrible display of her earth bending power. _

She swore that she would find the killers - because of course they would need more than one, he would never have left her for just one - and find them she did.

The strangest sense of calm enveloped her as she stared them down, her water all around them, calm she had not felt since she was in his arms.

_She could have destroyed them all, but instead, declared the war over. _

She would have killed them, sometimes she felt like she should have - there was no price too high to pay for taking his life - but she showed them mercy. She hated them, _hated _them but she couldn't bring herself to do it.

She supposed she should have learnt from Yon Rha - she was no killer - but the edges from where her heart had broken still cut her, still hurt her and she couldn't let them go.

She forced them to renounce their hatred - to be free of the darkness that ate at them - and to serve the New World.

_Both villages helped to build a great city where they would live together in peace. _

She remembered something he had once said to her - that he wanted all the Nations to be able to coexist together in peace, and so she called upon his killers and they built a city that rivalled even his most fantastic visions.

_The woman's name was Oma and the man's name was Shu. The great city was named Omashu as a monument to their love. _

They named it Republic City, and she was happy, because it was a monument to them, even if nobody knew it.

* * *

**So once again, thanks go to Harky21, storyoftheunknownfangirl, green-jedi and fuzzylovescats for your reviews and conversations - they make my day! And a big thankyou to anyone who has favourited or followed! **

**Reviews make the world go round. **


	11. Touch

**A/N: Yay! Touch. So, this one came out weird, guys. Not gonna lie. I tried to challenge myself not to actually use the _word _touch and then everything when to hell. **

* * *

touch

tʌtʃ

verb

1. come into or be in contact with.

2. handle in order to interfere with, alter, or otherwise affect.

* * *

She is on fire.

Heat sparks along trails made by his fingers as they slowly make their way along her skin. He presses a line of kisses along her jaw before continuing lower, nibbling and laving at the sensitive flesh he finds there and her eyelids flutter close.

His hand slides along her thigh and she _moans _because how is it possible that she can feel this good and he grins against her throat, masculine ego stroked at her _very _positive reactions.

His kisses travel lower, and suddenly he is doing _wicked _things to the corner of her neck and collar bone, and he sucks and bites until an abundance of purple marks have blossomed there. He leans back to admire his handiwork and the sight of her before him - lips red and swollen, blue eye darkened to the colour of ink and hair, clothes askew and hair strewn out on the pillows around them - does strange things to his head and sends blood rushing to other places he'd really rather not talk about but he is distracted when she follows him, body unconsciously seeking the source of the burning heat he had ignited in her.

His grin spreads wider as he notices and he tries not to let it go to his head - really, he does - and he leans back down to capture her lips in a bruising kiss, his tongue dancing with hers while his fingers draw fiery pictures along her limbs.

Her hands trail down his front (she doesn't know why she does it, it just feels _nice_, and judging by the way he shivers above her it's the right thing to do), and they grab at the edges of his shirt, trying to pull it upwards over his muscles and he should stop her, he should, but his mind is hazy and he can't think properly, and he helps her yank it over his head and tosses it somewhere behind him trying to ignore the whine of protest she makes when their mouths separate.

Immediately, she yanks him back down to kiss him roughly, and she runs her hands down his chest, tracing the prominent muscles and flicking her tongue against his in a way that is entirely unfamiliar and entirely unholy and he _groans _(in Agni's name, where did she learn to _do _that?) and it is her turn to grin as she brings her hands up to tangle in his hair to pull him closer to her.

He gets his revenge when his hips grind against hers and she gasps, her back arching and her mouth forms a perfect O as she tries to remember how to breathe. He kisses her harder and his hand circles around her leg, pulling it to wrap around his waist.

Her hands untangle from his hair and her nails scrape down his chest, red lines marking their path, to travel even further south, hands fiddling at the edge of his pants and this is steadily spiralling further and further out of control and he needs to stop it, _now. _

He seizes her wrists, and she frowns up at him, rejection dancing through her eyes.

He bites his lip, the darkness of her eyes pulling him back, drawing him down into her and he has to imagine his grandfather in that _bath _to resist.

He sits up, dragging her with him, and he immediately realises what a _bad _idea that was when she sprawls forward into his lap, his hands still around her wrists and her cheek rests atop his thigh, close - _too close _- to another area for comfort.

Confusion muddles her thoughts as she tries to figure out how exactly she got into this position and how to extricate herself from it when she notices _that _area.

"_Oh_," she whispers.

_Oh, is right, _he thinks.

He goes to say something - _what _he's never really sure - but is interrupted by her brother bursting through the door, demanding to know _where _she put his favourite pair of socks and then freezing in the doorframe, taking in their current position.

They see his eyes travel over Zuko's shirtless chest, eyes alighting on the red trails where Katara's nails bit into his skin, and then moving over to his sister, eyes widening at her disheveled state of dress, the purple marks along her neck and collar bone, swollen lips and glazed eyes. He nods to himself once, and then launches at Zuko.

…

In the weeks that follow, when anybody asks him he's limping, Zuko insists that he let Sokka win.

* * *

**A/N: So thanks again to storyoftheunknownfangirl for your speed-of-lightning review, and to fuzzylovescats and Harky21 for your wonderful conversations and feedback :) Thanks to anyone who has favourited or followed. **

**Reviews make the world go round. **


	12. Frozen

**Prompt 12: frozen. Eh heh, eh heh. Nobody sue me. **

* * *

frozen

ˈfrəʊzn

adjective

1. (of a liquid) having turned into ice as a result of extreme cold.

* * *

_The snow glows white on the mountain tonight_

_Not a footprint to be seen_

_A kingdom of isolation,_

_And it looks like I__'__m the Queen._

She ran here from the hut, trying to lose herself in the beautiful but cruel plains of the South Pole.

Icy winds buffeted her face, and she was the only living creature for as far as the eye could see. Distant mountains of ice fielded her vision, and behind her she felt the sea pushing and pulling at the edge of her plateau with the force of the moon, desperately swarming the jagged edges of the ice and then retreating as it broke itself on the frozen shards.

She was alone, this place would be her icy palace of isolation.

A fitting end for one such as her.

_The wind is howling like this swirling storm inside_

_Couldn__'__t keep it in, heaven knows I tried_

The wind howled in her ear, a lonely cry that echoed through her entire body. She deserved this, she had done this. She had brought this on herself.

They shouldn't have done it.

They both knew it was wrong, it was a poisonous secret to keep, but it was the sweetest poison either of them had ever tasted. It crept under their skin, infected them with this _need _for each other.

They had tried - oh, how they had tried - to stop it and then to keep it a secret. She didn't think either of them could handle the repercussions if what they had done - were doing - got out, but it had, and there was nothing they could do now.

_Don__'__t let them in, don__'__t let them see_

_Be the good girl you always have to be_

_Conceal, don__'__t feel, don__'__t let them know_

_Well, now they know_

Aang had seen them - he had _seen _them. After they promised each other it would only happen once, that it would only happen twice, that each time was the last, that it was their little secret, he had _seen _them.

After they had done everything to keep it as their poisonous, delicious secret, secret_, _lied, cheated, hid, deceived - everything that went against her very _nature _to be what the world wanted her to be, Aang had seen.

She had spent so long, lived _years _forcing herself to be the Katara that the world - that _Aang - _thought she should be. The one where she lived a happily ever after with Aang, the one where she was a good obedient housewife, the one where she stopped trying to become the greatest healer that ever was.

The one where the world smiled while she stepped back and stood behind the Avatar instead of beside him as his equal.

He was everything she had ever wanted, she just didn't know it until he leapt between her and the blue lightning.

It was supposed to be their secret.

But Aang _saw._

_Let it go, let it go_

_Can__'__t hold it back anymore_

_Let it go, let it go_

_Turn away and slam the door_

She hid her face behind her hands, shielding it from the glares and sneers of the world. She had watched as his heart shattered in his beautiful grey eyes, disbelief and despair disrupting the grey peace that resided in them, darkening his eyes to near black.

But she wouldn't deny it anymore.

She loved Aang. But he was her brother - the little sibling she had always longed for.

She loved Zuko. He was the half that completed her.

Her life was her own, her body hers to pledge to whomsoever she wished.

She was nobody's tool, nobody's possession.

_I don'__t care_

_What they__'__re going to say_

_Let the storm rage on,_

_The cold never bothered me anyway_

She wouldn't hide it anymore - why should she? He knew now - the _world _knew now - there was no point.

She could weather pointed looks, cruel whispers behind her back - she had felt enough of it when she helped save the world - they would never worry her. She didn't care.

Nothing could touch her.

_It__'__s funny how some distance_

_Makes everything seem small_

_And the fears that once controlled me_

_Can__'__t get to me at all_

Why did it seem as if her world ended back there - when her eyes had met Aang's around Zuko's back? Why had she hidden? Why had she tried to be what they wanted her to be?

She was Katara - a master waterbender and master healer. She would not be _controlled _by the what ifs, the this is how it was supposed to be, by the fears that plagued her dreams at night.

She was taking her life back. She was free to choose whom she should love, whom she should spend the rest of her life with. She would _not _apologise for being her own person - regret still ate at her that Aang had to find out this way, but she would not be sorry for the final step that pushed her towards true happiness.

_It__'__s time to see what I can do_

_To test the limits and break through_

_No right, no wrong, no rules for me_

_I__'__m free_

Her hands dragged through the air, calling the ice and snow that blanketed the ground around her towards her. Her arms twisted in the air, curling around each other and the water moved with her, forming a perfect sphere. She relaxed her hands and blew, the water dissolving into tiny snowflakes that fluttered away on the wind.

Already she could feel the calm that came with her bending spreading through her.

She was free to be who she wanted to be - there was nobody in the _world _who could tell her what she should do, who she should be.

She was _free._

_Let it go, let it go_

_I am one with the wind and sky_

_Let it go, let it go_

_You__'__ll never see me cry_

She exhaled, and melted the snow and ice at her feet, drawing the shimmering liquid towards her with both hands. She closed her eyes, luxuriating in the sheer _pleasure_ she derived from bending, her mind finding solace in the cruel beauty of her homeland. _She _was the ice and snow that swirled around her, swept along by the wind that screamed past her.

Her eyes snapped open, and she began to dance with the water, the shimmering element twisting and turning with her as she lost herself in her bending.

She could still feel the sting that burned the back of her eyes as she ran from the hut, but the tears would never fall. She would not _cry _for this.

She was the element of change - she _was _water. There was nothing that could hold her back - she had stopped caring about the world the first time Zuko's lips touched hers.

_Here I stand_

_And here I'll stay_

_Let the storm rage on_

They would try to convince her that she was wrong - that she shouldn't love the scarred (beautiful), disgraced (honourable) Fire Lord. That she should fall in love with the Avatar and become one of _them _- trail after him on the back of his sky bison, following him until the the ends of the earth, forgetting who she was.

She was tied to the land, to the tides that called her to sea. To the element that froze to become her home, to the shimmering blue that flew through the air as she danced across the snow.

She was tied to him.

They pulled at each other, two halves of a single whole. Fire and water. Yin and yang. Sun and moon. Push and pull.

She would stay with him. They would weather this storm of fury and disbelief.

_My power flurries through the air into the ground_

_My soul is spiraling in frozen fractals all around_

_And one thought crystallizes like an icy blast_

_I__'__m never going back,_

_The past is in the past_

Her wrist flicked, the water bursting into thousands of ice crystals that fluttered away on the win and she smiled, delighting in the silky smoothness of her element.

But her delight was nothing compared to the elation that was bubbling up through her, from her toes to her head. The dead weight of the lies that she and Zuko had told - the deception she had woven into her life - was gone. Shed from her shoulders as easily as changing her shirt.

She would never go back to that fear, to the never-ending hatred of herself, of Zuko, of Aang, of everyone.

_Let it go, let it go_

_And I'll rise like the break of dawn_

_Let it go, let it go_

_That perfect girl is gone_

She was not the _perfect _woman they thought she was. She broke the rules, she fell in love with who she wanted to,, not who she was supposed to.

She could feel the water all around her, begging to be freed from its solid imprisonment, she smiled, dragging her hands through the air to release the water into the night air.

Her smile spread, white teeth peeking between pink lips. She could see herself in the rippling, dancing water. And she knew that he was the brilliant, burning fire.

They belonged together.

_Here I stand_

_In the light of day_

_Let the storm rage on,_

_The cold never bothered me anyway_

The old Katara - the one consumed by guilt and remorse and self-loathing - was gone. She was here. She was now.

She was free.

And he was too.

* * *

**A/N: Not particularly proud of this one, kind of gave up on it (anyone see a pattern developing there?), and not very much Zutara at all. Anyway, massive thank you to lawliness, fuzzylovescats, Harky21, storyoftheunknownfangirl and green-jedi - you guys make my day! Also thanks to anyone who has followed or favourited! **

**Reviews make the world go round. **


	13. Candles

**A/N: Candles - prompt 13. I am now 7 days late and I have no excuses guys. Except that prompts are witches and writer's block is my new best friend. **

* * *

candle

ˈkand(ə)l

noun

1. a cylinder or block of wax or tallow with a central wick which is lit to produce light as it burns.

2. a unit of luminous intensity, superseded by the candela.

* * *

He blows out the first candle and it sounds like a prayer.

_I should have told you. (But I'm a coward, aren't I?)_

He moves to the next, and pauses, marvelling at its flickering golden dance, before he leans in and extinguishes it, too.

_You are - were - worth more than this. I should have seen you again. (When you could see me, too.)_

He exhales, and the third candle flickers and dies - snuffed out by his breath.

_It's funny that it ended this way, isn't it? (Because the world promised me happiness and yesterday I couldn't stop the tears.)_

He hesitates at the fourth candle. It is short, smaller than the other columns of wax, and its flame seems gentler than the others, its soft yellow light serenely sweet and gentle, and it reminds him of Aang - and his greatest success (_failure_).

He pauses for a moment more before he lunges forward, his hand seizing around the flame and smothering it. And he hates himself for it, because the pale great smoke that trails into the air from the blackened wick is entirely too similar to the colour of something else, and even here he can't escape him.

_Why did you choose him? I loved you (and I spent so long wondering - thinking - hoping - dreaming - believing - you did, too)._

The fifth flame disappears, its flickering dance extinguished with his sigh.

_I used to wonder what it would have been like. (If it had been me and you, not you and him.)_

The sixth candle is more stubborn, clinging desperately to the life its flickering flame brings - dancing around his attempts to douse it - until he screams and it flares brilliant white to match his fury before dying completely.

_I didn't believe it when they told me. (We were supposed to grow old together - you told me that. It was supposed to be just you and me, me and you, old and weary and still just as in love with each other as when we were young and stupid and just kids.)_

The seventh flame disappears so quickly it seems like it melted into the night.

_It wasn't supposed to be like this. (I saw you heal - how could you _die?_)_

The eighth candle he breathes in, consuming its fire and committing the stink of its wax to memory.

_I kissed you once and it was the greatest (worst) day of my life. (Sometimes I imagine I can still taste you). _

The ninth is lost amongst the darkness, its flame already having sputtered into nonexistence.

_Aang said it's an air bender. (And when he said it I wondered if you would have lived if it bent fire.)_

The tenth is too bright - too brilliant - to last more than a moment when wills it stop.

_I would have drowned in fire for you. (And I would have burned in the water.) _

The eleventh is the tallest, the strongest. He can feel it fight him as he extinguishes it and he wonders when he started thinking of the fire as a living, breathing creature (_but when did he stop?)_.

_Are you happy wherever you are? (You told me you were happy here, but I could still see the stains from the tears that rolled down your skin.)_

He reaches the twelfth candle and he doesn't want to do it - doesn't want to blow it out - because it means he's one step away from the end and then there's no going back - there's no rescuing her this time.

He sighs, and before he knows it, that ghost of a breath has taken the final flame from him until it is nothing more than a wisp of pale grey smoke and the shattered remains of his heart on the floor.

_I want to blame you (but I can't). I want to laugh with you (but I want to scream at you). _

_Why did you leave us - him? (He loved you - loves you.)_

_I love you. _

He blows out the last candle and it sounds like her name.

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**A/N: Thank you for reading! Apologies for the late update, but thank yous to the following people: storyoftheunkownfangirl, Harky21, fuzzylovescats, peter pan's horcrux and green-jedi. Massive thanks also to anyone who has favourited or followed - so many of you D:**

**As always, reviews make the world go round. **


	14. Dynamic

**A/N: Dynamic! Woot woot! Two prompts in two days! Yay! **

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dynamic

dʌɪˈnamɪk

adjective

1. (of a process or system) characterized by constant change, activity, or progress.

2. (of a person) positive in attitude and full of energy and new ideas.

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He heard some girl describe them as dynamic, and he's so _confused, _because he doesn't understand. It's just Zuko and Katara - they're just bending - how does that make them _dynamic_? (He also wants to know what exactly dynamic _means_.)

He's seen them together - they fight, they shout, they scream, and then they _explode _into action next to each other, deadly fury becoming water whips and fire balls and they're so incredibly _alive _he doesn't know what to do (sometimes he still gets jealous).

But really, what they're doing now is more dancing than sparring, red and blue spiralling each other to meet and then dart away - and is all that touching really _necessary? _He doesn't really think that Zuko needs to brush her hip to create that flame whip and does she need to let her hand trail along his abs (holy spirits above, his _abs _- Sokka is suddenly far more self-conscious of his own musculature) to create that wave of water?

Something brotherly and protective in him swells in his chest and he leaps from his seat, determined to protect Katara from whatever is happening - because it is _not _appropriate for his little sister, of that he is sure - and he leaps to his feet in anger and indignation as he sees Zuko's hand grazes skin dangerously close to her chest bindings as he spins around her to create something out of fire and this needs to stop - _immediately. _

He pauses.

Whatever _this_ is (he has the most horrible suspicion it's the dynamic thing that girl was talking about).

He surges forward - waving his new sword (Suki got it for him and he danced around their home for hours afterwards in happiness before declaring war on the turtleduck that swam innocently in the pool) in the air and screaming a battle cry - hellbent on Zuko's imminent death only to fall flat on his face after the ground used a sneak attack on him.

_Really, _he thinks, as he watches Zuko and Katara _dynamically _spar (_dance) _with each other, _this shouldn't be allowed. _They are simply too young to be doing this kind of _thing. _

He shudders as Katara smiles slyly at Zuko (really, did they have no sense of decency at _all_?), drawing her fingers along his arm and there is something all too _knowing_ in her gaze for Sokka's comfort.

Distantly, in the back of his mind, he remembers doing something far worse than this with Suki while escaping from the Western Air Temple, but that was different because it wasn't his little sister and some _grabby _Fire Nation guy trying to take advantage of her (Sokka conveniently forgets that it was his _sister _that initiated the sparring session) and he needs to stop this.

Yue help him.

Stupid dynamics.

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**A/N: Tbh, with this fic, I kind of just wanted to write something light-hearted and fluffy and whenever I write from either Zuko or Katara's point of view it always ends up being about tears and sadness and death. Things which do not usually go hand in hand with fluffy. So yay! Sokka's time to shine! I hope I got the characterisation down - I think he may have been a bit OOC for post-show, but ah well. Humour! (Attempted humour!)**

**Massive thank you to JunetheZutarian, Harky21, fuzzylovescats, storyoftheunkownfangirl and peter pan's horcrux (your review was the nicest thing I have ever read and I love you forever because of it). You guys make my life. Seriously. I want to hug you all. Also, hugs for everyone who favourited or followed. Many thanks! :D**

**Reviews make the world go round. **


	15. Treasure

**So this is treasure... Sorry it's so late D:**

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Her greatest treasure is her necklace.

It was her mother's and it's all she has left of her (except the whisper of memories and the tears that sometimes slide down her cheeks when she thinks nobody can hear). She's never hesitated to tell him that.

She tells him that it's her greatest treasure because when she touches the silk ribbon -that has coarsened over time, it reminds her of her mother's skin. Because when she ties it in front of a mirror she can pretend it's hanging around her mother's neck instead of hers.

But she doesn't tell him that it's her greatest treasure because when she puts it on in the morning she remembers his fingers brushing against her as he fastened it around her throat. She doesn't tell him that it reminds her of the scent of ash and blood and sweat, and cherry blossoms and wood smoke and ice.

That she no longer sees it as just water now.

It has been tainted with fire, yes. But also painted and caressed and _loved _by fire and she no longer knows how she's supposed to feel.

So she tells him her greatest treasure is her necklace.

…

His greatest treasure is the pond.

It's funny really. It's not the pond he really treasures, but the place - the way it's sunk into him, left the warm scent of damp earth in his nose, the gentle lapping of the pool at its edges and the _quack _of the turtleducks echoing in his ears.

He remembers feeding the turtle ducks with his mother and the memory makes him smile and then fight with himself to shove the burn of tears back down his throat.

He remembers kissing her and pressing her into the soft ground at the pond's shore, running his hands along her body and toying with the necklace nestled in the hollow of her throat.

The air around the pond tastes bittersweet, and breathing it in makes him the happiest man alive.

So why is he crying?

He tells her his greatest treasure is the pond.

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**So, not gonna lie, not proud of this one at all. It sucks. But uni's started, sooooo... yeah. **

**Anyways, thank you to: JunetheZutarian, storyoftheunknownfangirl, peter pan's horcrux, green-jedi, Hysterical Insanity, Flip Ants, and of course, the lovely Harky21 - you guys make me keep writing! Also, I love all of you guys who followed or favourited - you guys are the best. Ta ta. **


	16. Switch

**Hahahaha I am so sorry. No words can explain how late this is. But yeah. And it's terrible. So - I apologise. Very much so.**

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switch

swɪtʃ

noun

1. a device for making and breaking the connection in an electric circuit.

2. an act of changing to or adopting one thing in place of another.

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His hands smell like sour white antiseptic and cleaning fluid. He can't remember the last time they didn't, but then again he can't remember the last time he left the room.

The fumes have burnt the insides of his nose, and every time he breathes needles stab at him and he hates himself because of it - because what right does he have to be breathing?

A chuckle escapes him and it sounds more like a sob.

He should hate himself for so much more than just _that. _

Her lungs wheeze as the thousands of pipes and tubes connecting her to the dozens of machines that keep her alive pump them full of air.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

There's something he's supposed to do today, something he _has _to do, but surely, _surely_, she'll wake up.

She won't just… give up.

She's _Katara. _

Katara.

_Open your eyes. _

He reaches for her hand, and it feels so _cold _he wants to be able to breathe fire to warm her, but she's still cold and he's dying inside.

The door rattles next to him and he doesn't even have to think to know it's Sokka.

Their eyes meet and he thinks he should look away but he _can't. _This is his punishment.

His penance.

Eventually, Sokka looks away and his eyes find Katara in the bed, and he can't bring himself to look into his eyes. He doesn't want to _know. _

They stay in silence for a long time, neither moving, neither breathing.

"Somebody's got to do it."

He doesn't know which of them speaks.

The silence stretches on longer.

Time passes.

"I don't.. I don't want to do this."

He doesn't know who says it, but he knows they both thought it.

More time passes.

He glances at Sokka and they say something without speaking.

He squeezes her hand, and there are tears rolling down his cheeks and he doesn't know what to do. Slowly, he loosens his grip on her hand, and he swears she's fighting to hold his hand, but the machines are still beeping and they're both dead.

He reaches over, flicks the switch and walks out of the room.

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**Let's just never speak of this. In other news: thank you to my lovely reviewers, and to all the people who favourited or followed in the time I was.. inactive. I love you all!**

**Reviews make the world go round. **


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